Dreamland
by Eleavir
Summary: Post-movie. Thor found out his brother had been visiting him in his dreams. Weird things due to happen whenever Loki was involved. Was it another scheme of the trickster's? Heavy reference of Thor: Tales of Asgard. Brotherly love. Daddy issue. R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot (the original part).

**Author's note:** Basically I'm treating the live-action movie Thor and the animated film Thor: Tales of Asgard as in one continuity, whereas the reference of other Norse gods is based on the Marvel comics and on the myths but rather loosely.

Dreamland

1.

Gods dream to prophesize.

They dream of things yet to come, be them the demise of gods themselves or the destiny of mortal men. Inevitable future unfolds itself in their dreams before it's woven by the Norns into the web of fate.

And there are other times when the gods dream like mortals in Midgard, when the dreams are of things that have passed, or that will never come to pass.

Thor was having one of such dreams.

In his dream his shoulders were not as broad, his size was not as big, and Mjolnir was yet in his possession. The days were still young, and the afternoon sunshine was too bright for any shadows to exist.

Thor stretched out his limbs in a lazy yawn. He'd just put up a good (training) fight with the Einherjar, Odin's guardsmen, and the audience had rejoiced in his victory. It was a satisfactory sparring exercise, with him not missing any of the targets, and none of accidents had happened, accidents such as the sword's grip slipping out of his hand.

It was perfect. A definite proof that he was one more step toward his goal: to become the best of best, the greatest warrior ever told in the tales of Asgard.

He closed his eyes, feeling proud of himself. The grass underneath his body felt as soft as the sheets on his bed. Sunshine caressed his face as a mother's gentle fingers, while the breeze was pressing kisses to his long blonde hair like a gracious lover.

He was content, mesmerizing himself in this after-exercise trance. No one would come to disturb the prince of Asgard in his "me-time"-

A shade blocked out the sunshine just above his head.

Of course, unless it was the other prince.

"What brought you here, brother?" Thor asked without opening his eyes. He did not need to look to tell it was his brother. Loki always had this refreshing scent that reminded Thor of fresh mint and morning frost. He could tell it was his brother among all the living beings in all the nine realms – mind you, the younger one excelled in shape-shifting – and thus being able to find him whenever others had failed.

The shade did not move, nor did it speak.

Thor opened one eye to check, and caught his younger brother gazing down at him intently.

"What's in your mind now?" He asked, being curious as to what Loki was up to this time, hopefully not another prank that would eventually turn into a punishment that they both had to share. Although, truth be told, he did enjoy the last one on Freyr. He had this fantasy-made-grudge against the Vanir god, all because the wars between the Aesir and the Vanir were so great in the tales but, alas, they then had decided to cease fire long before young Thor was able to honour his name on the battlefield. Freyr and his twin sister Freya were exchanged to Asgard as part of the truce, yet there was still this "my side, your side" going on among the godlings. Provoking Freyr would not wage a war against Vanheim, unlike their last expedition into the land of Jotunheim. Father would only see this as a harmless child play.

Perhaps Loki had just come up with some brilliant idea to try on poor Freyr. That thought excited Thor. Sitting up abruptly, he almost hit his brother in the process.

"What is it, Loki? I can smell your mischievous plan when you have one. Spill your beans." Thor brushed back a lock of blonde hair from his eyes and grinned at his younger sibling. "Or will you rather keep staring at me in this eerie silence of yours?" At that, he thought of another possibility, and the smile wilted into concern. "Please don't tell me it's Amora again. She did not just turn your tongue into stone, did she?"

"Nay," the younger prince finally broke the silence, "I better the enchantress in the art of sorcery." He said in his low, scornful voice, "In fact, none in this realm can best me in the dark arts."

Thor shrugged. Not many in this realm devoted themselves to the practice of magic, anyway. Asgardians were born fighters. They treasured bravery, sheer force, and honour over cunning tricks, and tricks were an important component of magic.

"'Tis good, brother, " he commented offhandedly, "although I'd rather you spent more time in the training arena with me than alone in your temple, reading books and playing water." He chuckled and gave his brother a jestful punch on his arm. Loki flinched at the pain and muttered under his breath. Then his gaze was upon him again, green eyes gleaming in an unfamiliar way to Thor. He stopped laughing, looking confused.

"Brother, what is it with you today?" He asked unsurely, "You're not yourself."

"I may not be," Loki admitted, "and we're in the dreamland. It explains all the weirdness you are about to encounter, but that's not important." Then he drew one step closer to Thor, who by this time was already standing tall. A shorter stature he had, the younger one had to look up to the God of Thunder. "You are not the age you think you are, as I'm not mine. Think beyond this time, and ask me the right question."

Thor furrowed his brows in hesitation. "I don't understand…"

But he did. He knew what his brother was talking about yet refused to accept. The look on Loki's face was speaking of the same.

He diverted his blue eyes and looked elsewhere, anywhere but his brother.

"Let me have peace in my dreams, as it is but the only haven left for a god," Thor's younger self spoke in a much older, tired voice. "Loki, you have plagued my mind in the daylight. Leave me to my solace in the long nights."

His brother just snickered.

"Why, was I ever so kind?" His thin lips crooked into a wicked smile, "My dearest brother, my love for you is too deep that it is impossible to not miss you. My sole thoughts of you brought me back from Hel so that I shall be your company once again, in your dreams. "

The mention of the Underworld surprised the blonde one. He glared at Loki; anger and something else welled up in his chest.

"Is it another trick of yours?" He looked almost in fury, "Mayhap you are lost in one of the nine realms - and I promise I'll search for you once the Bifrost is mended - but Hel it should not be. 'Tis not time for you to be claimed by the Mistress of the Netherworld. The end of us is prophesized to come with Ragnarok, not now, not soon."

Loki shrugged, "It was a long way down, anyway. Just be glad I was able to land in one piece from that trip through a black hole," he waved his hand dismissively, as if talking about someone else's story. "Hela accepted my trespass just fine. In fact, I would say she's quite enjoyed me as a guest in her hall. It has become increasingly rare that others show me such appreciation, for which I'm contemplating to linger on maybe a while longer."

"But you are NOT dead." Thor insisted, not seemed to have registered the major part of Loki's point. Now it was his turn to gaze upon his brother intently. Loki seemed to waver a little under his assertive glare, but soon came back with a sneer.

"What do you know, thunderhead?" He teased, "Are you saying this just so you can feel less guilty? Are you this unbelievably arrogant that you think you, the Mighty Thor, can deny Hela's will like no other beings in the nine realms?"

"No, brother," Thor said softly, "It is faith I speak of, that you're able to trick your way out of whatever predicament that's bestowed upon you, and you will come back from the fall no matter how hard it gets. You are, after all, a god like me. We are of a species that simply don't die from a fall."

Loki paused for a brief moment before he put on his smirk again. "It is certain that your naivety has out grown my speculation, but it is enough of your ignorance for one night. As the day breaks, I'm afraid it is time for me to return to the realm of eternal darkness." He smiled, arms opened a little as if expecting an embrace. "Farewell, brother of mine. I should say my benediction here but, since you know me as me, we shall skip to the next part."

"Huh?" was the only syllable Thor could make out before he was shoved back. He lost his balance as the grassland beneath him trembled and broke into million shreds. Before the black void consumed him he called out to his brother, only to see the other was standing by the edge, arms folded, face bland. Green eyes watched placidly as he fell, and the thin lips mouthed a word that no ears were allowed to hear.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

One thing cued Thor that he was dreaming was that he was down here in Jotunheim _without_ his hammer.

He did not particularly enjoy this kind of dreams, in which Mjolnir was left somewhere, probably still sitting in Odin's vault, and he himself was younger than the age he was supposed to be. He had fought countless battles with his mighty hammer that it had long become part of his identity. Without it, he felt vulnerable, incomplete, and susceptible to strange situations that so easily spun out of control like rudders caught in a storm.

Situations like now.

Thor found himself standing in a humongous hall crowded with frost giants. Apparently they were having a banquet, for his long-term enemies were sitting about behind long tables with meat heaped up and drinking from horns in their enormous hands.

And they were laughing, although with their booming voice it sounded more like howling or guffawing. It was strange to hear them laugh since all the expressions Thor remembered seeing was neither sneering or bellowing. Happy frost giants were no less than a fantasy species, with no chance of presenting themselves in any tales of Asgard.

Then again, Thor thought to himself, unlikely events do happen in dreams.

He felt a tug at his tunic, and realized that he was not alone. Pivoting his head, he was shocked to see his brother looking somber and subdued. Now the dream was getting weirder. Thor knew his brother better than anyone else in Asgard. If anything, Loki was not easy to accept his defeat, which the younger prince had once pointed out casually that it could as well be the brothers' one and only common ground.

"What is this place?" Thor felt the need to ask, "Why are we here?"

Loki was not looking at him. His green eyes fixated on whoever was sitting on the iron throne at the far end of the hall, presumably the king of the frost giants.

"We're in the citadel called Utgard. You've decided to come to Jotunheim to flex muscles against some giants. So here we are." Loki, still not looking at him, whispered in his silky voice. "Their king has challenged us to a series of contests. We've lost first two. I hate to admit this but," a small push at the back, and Thor was a step forward, "you seem to be our last hope. Since weapons are not allowed in these contests, I suspect our pride and honour would be the only casualties should we lose. " Before Thor could have his words out, Loki quickly added, "My pride, your honour, that is."

"Fret not, brother. Taking down frost giants has never been a challenging task for one of us." Hearing the king on the throne calling him to come forth, Thor gave his brother a lopsided grin before he strutted on, "Do get ready to cheer for my victory."

Ignoring Loki's grunt, Thor quickly made himself present before the giant king. Gods needed not to bow to any other living beings in the nine realms but to the All-Father, so Thor stood straight, chin held high and arms folded defiantly. The god and the king scrutinized each other, and the giant's indigo face was unreadable.

Whoever he is, thought Thor, he is no Laufey.

Thor knew he had never seen this giant before. Yet at the same time he knew he had seen him in déjà-vu. The one on the throne looked as familiar as an old friend, whose name had escaped him, and probably had never been remembered.

The king smiled, although his indigo-coloured skin made it look more like a snicker.

"Now, Thor," said the giant king, "you're well known for your boasting. I've heard that you brag endlessly about this and that and the other. Which of all your skills will you deign to show us?"

No weapons, thought Thor. No Mjolnir. And imagining he had had Mjolnir in his hand and laying waste to this huge hall calmed him enough to ignore the insult.

"I will drink," he said.*

0

0

0

When the giant king walked the Asgardians out of his citadel, Thor, the mighty God of Thunder, for once felt small. He kept his eyes to the ground and was grateful that Loki chose to hold his tongue. He was too busy feeling sorry for himself that he paid no heed to his brother's unusual silence.

"I believe this is where we say goodbye, gods of Asgard," said the giant king in a perfect regal politeness. Thor mumbled something in return, still humiliated by the total defeats he had received in the contests last night.

This damned dream had been dragging too long, which had become too unpleasant ever since he failed the first contest of drinking. The giant king had handed him a sconce-horn and challenged him to finish the drink in one draught. He had tried three times and could not believe his eyes when the level had only descended a mere difference.

And he never wanted to mention to any soul again of his failed attempts on lifting a cat and wrestling an old giantess.

Even in a dream, being such weak and vulnerable hurt his feelings.

The giant king continued to say something else, but Thor was too absorbed in his own humiliation to hear. The king then smiled, in his snickering way, and said the parting words before he vanished. And the citadel vanished with him.

Well, weird things do happen in dreams.

The brothers were left alone on the open plain of the frozen land of giants. They looked at each other, and only till then did Thor realize that his brother appeared to be a little different. He looked again, this time more closely.

Loki was still lean and good-looking, could have been said handsome if one's standard was not measured against biceps and pectoralis. His skin looked a little paler than usual, making his eyes greener and his chin pointier. But Loki had been like that before, so it wasn't the problem. The problem was elsewhere.

"Your lips," Thor narrowed his eyes and asked, "did the giants do it?"

Had his brother said aye, Thor would swear to his father's eye that he would have stormed Utgard and turned that citadel into nothing but debris. No one who had ever tortured his brother would have lived to tell the tale of the Wrath of the Thunder God. With Mjolnir or not, the collective fate of those giants was sealed to be doomed in his hands.

His eyes were almost blazing in fury as he fixed his stare on Loki's lips. Those thin lips had used to be the fine instruments that had smoothly delivered lies and flatteries, laughter and curses, and had curved into beautiful lines when his brother had been merry.

Now they were carved with hideous scars, on and around. Scars that even a seasoned fighter like Thor could not tell from which kind of blade they were being made.

"Nay," Loki shook his head, "not the giants. They are clean on this one."

"No one smites an Odinson and gets away," Thor breathed in heavily and bellowed, "Give me their names and I'll deliver them justice!"

Loki thought about it and sneered. "It was you. Now let's see how justice gets delivered."

"Not funny."

"I didn't think so myself," said Loki in a voice as rich and smooth as melted butter, "I didn't know you would help those midgets – help them capture me so they could sew my lips with an awl and a leather thong. All for your cursed honour."

"Don't accuse me of deeds I have never done," Thor furrowed his brows deeply, frustrated by the accusation he had no memory of. He put a hand on Loki's shoulder as he closed the gap between them. "I would never bring harm to my family, and you are my brother." He said most earnestly and squeezed the other one's thin shoulder. "I would never allow others to harm the House of Odin. So stop jesting and tell me the truth: who hurt you?"

Loki stared into the blue of oceans and shrugged – or tried to, with Thor's steady hand still firmly placed on his shoulder.

"Not going to believe me, are you? It is just too typical of you to accept the simple truth. What if I told you it was Thor who pinned me down so that the dwarves could get on with their job? My blood was on your face yet you didn't waver. I screamed and begged in Odin's name yet you stared through me as though you were deaf. And in the end, you said this," he mimicked in Thor's voice, "'You have no honour, Loki. Take this one as your first lesson: For as long as the scars remain unhealed, the pain shall remind you of what you ought to be, that you will not make a mockery of everything.'"He paused to catch his breath, and smiled drily, "You would think I'm lying and your eyes are already speaking so. I have a sinking feeling that my words have failed to reach you yet again."*

"You are speaking madness, brother," Thor gathered all his patience and tried to reason, "The time we have spent together since, well, since we had our first memory is sufficient to tell me what a god you are. You are the prince of lies, you cheat your ways out, you have no honour in your words, and you enjoy seeing others miserable from your mischievous pranks. I accept all these for you being you. I will also accept it if you wish to make a change, but mark my words, brother, that I do not ever force the change upon you. I never did and never will."

As he spoke these words, his thumb gently brushed through the younger one's lips, where the scars healed at his touch as though they had just faded like nightmares in the morning light. Green eyes gleamed, and Loki the Silver Tongued said naught a word.

"Now," the God of Thunder grinned, "it is time for you to come home. Mother misses you. As for father, well, there is no vagueness when he is angry; other than that the king never reveals his true feelings. My presumption is that he misses you, too."

Had Thor hoped to see his brother accept his offering hand in tears, he would have certainly disappointed.

As soon as Thor mentioned his father – their father - the gleam of softness in the green eyes died like an ember in a long, cold winter night. There were no emotions on the Trickster's face. He looked ghastly.

"I thought last time I made it clear that I'm dead."

"You aren't."

"And you refuse to believe. Why am I not surprised?"

"After the last dream I requested Heimdall to look for you in Hel. He could see you in neither the furthest corner nor the deepest crevice of the Underworld. Which leads to the conclusion that, brother, you are not there."

"Ah, that," Loki continued on emotionlessly, "I was able to conceal myself from his omniscient sight before. Suppose I could still pull the same trick."

Thor felt his patience was stretching thin. Talking was never his way of solving troubles. He preferred to use Mjolnir to get his point across. Without his hammer, he felt incapable of doing many things, such as knocking some senses into his brother's stubborn head.

"Why, Loki? Why do you want me to believe that you're gone forever?" He asked in frustration. "Why torment your family like this? What have we done to wrong you?"

At this, Loki did not reply. Instead he looked up to the gray sky and whispered, "A storm is coming."

"Don't change the subject!"

"'Tis time for your departure and return to the other world," said the sorcerer, "the land of dreams succumbs to the land of reality when the sun rises."

"Nay," the Hammer Hurler grabbed the other one's much slimmer wrist, "not when I haven't got my answers."

"What you don't know doesn't hurt you, so the mortals of Midgard say."

"I demand answers!"

"I don't grant wishes, thunderhead. I'm the God of Mischief. I laugh when you cry."

"Answers, now." Thor's grip went tighter and Loki had to bite down a yelp. Thor heard the thunders rolling toward them from the far, far horizon of Jotunheim. Mjolnir was not here; the storm was not his making. Then again, they were all part of his dream, so maybe it was.

Seeing he had no way of squirming out of Thor's strong grip, Loki rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. Let me go and you'll get your answers."

At that, the Thunder God loosened his fingers, and in the blink of an eye the Trickster turned into a crow and escaped.

"Ha!" squeaked the crow at a distance safe from Thor's catch. "What made you think I would honour my words? Stupid, stupid Thor!"

Thor looked at him and said nothing.

"You assured me that you would protect the House of Odin and me as your brother. Blunt thunderhead, do you know that I'm no more an Odinson than a frost giant being Asgardian?"

"I know," said Thor curtly, "Father told me everything…in the end."

The crow was silent for a brief moment and flapped his wings in anger. "Then you're more idiotic than I've credited you for." The bird squealed as if making a sneering sound, "Offering protection to a frost giant, Thor, you've put all these years' training and your reputation to shame!"

"I'm offering my protection to you," Thor gazed at the bird, "Frost giant or no, it is my brother I see in you."

Green lightning slashed across the gray sky, looking as though it had almost split the dark cloud in two.

The crow flapped its wings ferociously. "Then you're a fool," he squawked, flying above his brother's head in circles. "Or you're a terrible liar." Before Thor could protest, he continued in the bird's screeching voice.

"I've seen more than you could ever imagine. When I was falling through that black hole I saw things that were not supposed for our eyes to see. I saw you, many incarnations of you, as many as my own. In the countless space and time, in the things to come and things have passed, there are us. Loki and Thor. Sometimes we're related by blood, sometimes not. Sometimes we're each other's company, sometimes we despise the other's being. Sometimes there is love-" a pause, "yet in the end there is always hate. In every Ragnarok I've seen, love always perishes into hate. No matter how much you claim the great brotherly love you have for me, it is reserved for Loki the Trickster, Loki the Shapeshifter. But wait till you hear my third name-"

The bird flapped again and suddenly, in a puff, the younger prince was standing before his aghast brother. His pointy face was paler than ever.

"The third name I have," he whispered as freezing winds began to howl, "Loki the Destroyer. I am the one who brings Ragnarok to Asgard, and laughs the last laugh when everyone else dies before me, that includes you."

He laughed and laughed, till his laughter turned into a high-pitched shriek that not even the howling winds and thundering roars could drew it out.

"What would you do now, Thunder God?"

_To be continued_

_*I took the giant king's line and the following Thor's line directly from the book The Norse Myths by Kevin Crossley-Holland. Crossley-Holland really knows what he's talking about so if you're interested in norse gods grab this book from your local library or buy a copy. It would be a worthy addition to your bookshelf. _

_*"you will not make a mockery of everything" is a line I took from the Marvel Comics: The Trials of Loki. A great comic book to read if you want to understand Loki's psych._


End file.
